


Ready, Desperate

by j_gabrielle



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Biting, Crossdressing, M/M, Marathon Sex, PWP, Riding, Window Sex, fucked out, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 05:58:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Can be taken as a sequel for <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/819266">This Love Will Be The Death Of Me</a>, but can also be read as a stand alone.</p><p>"Will mumbles unintelligibly, drool leaking from the side of his mouth where it is pressed against the window. His hands search for purchase against the sun warmed glass, finding none. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready, Desperate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [philosophyofhedonism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/philosophyofhedonism/gifts).



> Um. Here's another one?

His toes barely touch the carpet. He is quivering like a tightly strung bow. The filmy thin skirt that they had bought specifically for this occasion is pushed up, wrinkled, stained and torn. There was no saving it now.

Looking at his boy from the back, Hannibal thinks that he could pass for a rather masculine looking girl. Androgyny is all the rage now, isn’t it? He wonders if he may be able to coax his favourite plaything into letting himself be dressed up and paraded amongst the creatures who still abide by some notion of normality.

The line of Will’s back is taut as he sinks back onto his cock again, muscles shifting as he moves back, unable to stop despite the exhaustion that must be creeping into every synapse. It is a hypnotic image and one that Hannibal is sure he will never tire of.

“Do you think they can see us?” Hannibal muses; viciously digging his hands into Will’s already bruised hips. He thrusts quickly, unrelenting. One. Two. “All those people down there. Families with babies in their strollers out for a Sunday stroll. What would they think if they saw you like this?” One. Two. “ _Desperate_ for my cock even after coming two times already. Hmm?”

Will mumbles unintelligibly, drool leaking from the side of his mouth where it is pressed against the window. His hands search for purchase against the sun warmed glass, finding none. The rouge lipstick and the eyeliner are ruined, and the effect should make Will look like a deranged copycat of The Joker. But all Hannibal can think of is making a note to purchase one that is waterproof for their future endeavours.

Hannibal runs his hands lightly up Will’s flank, delighting in the shiver that his touch causes on the smooth shaved skin. Draping himself over his back, he bends down to dip his tongue into Will’s ear, causing the man to scream, curling his toes.

His mother’s pearls gleam in the afternoon sun, resting against an exquisite necklace of bruises and Hannibal nuzzles against them with his cheek. She’d given them to him when he’d turn 13, telling him to give it to his future wife when they marry. It’s a pity he had never had an inclination for the fairer sex. He likes to imagine that she would not disapprove too much of his choice in Will. After all, he is as good as married to the man and his pack of dogs.

Will pants as he rabbits his hips, never breaking rhythm, fogging up the glass in front of him. The stain on the window is a convoluted mess of white streaks, smudges and dying flakes. There will be much explaining to do, and perhaps much cleaning up before they check out in a day’s time. But it is of no consequence now.

Hannibal bites down on Will’s shoulder, worrying the skin but not breaking it. Moving his hands, he cups his lover’s breasts, rolling them in his palm. They fit perfectly—not too small, not too big. The treatment causes Will to whine, and Hannibal knows that he is close.

“Can you be a good boy for me? Can you come once more?”

Will moans, writhing as Hannibal lengthens his thrusts, slamming back in. Pulling their sweat slicked bodies back, Hannibal sits down on the edge of the awaiting armchair, making sure that Will has his legs straddling Hannibal’s thighs, arranging them until he has Will’s hole clenching desperately at the head of his cock.

“If you want it my beautiful boy, you’re going to have to work for it.” He croons, gently guiding Will until the younger is sinking down, head thrown back in ecstasy. Will pulls himself up, before his strength gives out and his asshole swallows Hannibal’s cock in on swift move.

“Can’t do it anymore?” Hannibal whispers; delighted at the sight of his Will breaking apart at the seams, shaking his head and sobbing desperately. “That’s a pity, but I’m sure we can work around it. Here.” He draws him close and pressing them flush with Will’s back plastered against his front. Hannibal pries his right hand from where they grip at armrest, slipping their hands together.

Hannibal rolls his hips, making Will cry out. Underneath the veil like material of the skirt, Hannibal could see Will’s spent cock moving with the motions of their body. It would be unable to participate in their activities, having been exhausted. It must hurt, and though Hannibal itched to touch it, he did not want to cause Will any pain that was unnecessary.

Pleasure comes over him in waves, and Hannibal has to bite back down against Will’s shoulder, suckling the skin as his hip begins to stutter. Will sighs in his lap, almost in relief as Hannibal pumps him full of his come. With his free hand, he brings it to grip at the little pudge of Will’s belly.

When he finally stops coming, Hannibal tilts head to draw Will into a kiss that the man quickly submits into, tasting the mixture of tears and cherry chapstick. He drags his hand to wrap around Will’s throat, feeling the way his Adam’s apple jump at the pressure. Immediately, he feels his cock twitch and stir where it still rests in Will.

Hannibal can feel Will tensing up. “Shh…” He hushes, leaving biting kisses on Will’s unstubbled jaw. “I think it’s time we move this to the bed.”

Will moans.

 

 

[end.]


End file.
